Writer's Block
by Celebrity Martyr
Summary: After accidentally becoming a successful author, Marco Diaz is stuck on severe writer's block. Will a woman he met half-drunk at a bar help him get out of this writer's block?
1. 10,000

**Hello once again.**

 **After not updating for the entire duration of 2017 but once, I give you two updates in less than a week, including the introduction of a new fic I call "Writer's Block", another idea I obtained at the crack ass of dawn.**

 **I assume you've read the summary, so here I go.**

12:45 A.M. July 9th, 2026. College student Marco Diaz, an undergraduate majoring in history at Echo Creek University, typed the final words of his three-hundred and twenty-three page book entitled _Kein Kampf,_ a story about a Jewish time traveler, who in the effort of trying to stop the Holocaust befriends Adolf Hitler.

The idea was achieved while Diaz was under the influence of marijuana, and after constant pushing from his friends, he started planning to actually develop the novel. Diaz considered the plot of the book to be absolutely moronic, but he'd thought it'd be funny to produce.

That was six months ago. Now he had a finished product. Now all he had to do was print it (he bought $650 worth of ink to be safe) and shop around the area for publishers in the area. Who knew, maybe an incompetent publisher would actually print his book, and he could make a few bucks off of it.

Only time would tell.

 **Time Skip Quote: Legalize the Truth**

July 16th, 2026. The day after finishing the book, he scheduled four meetings with publishers over the next three weeks. This was the first.

It was a printing company called "Wong Printing", a group that published works that typically had poor initial sales that then would become cult classics after five years.

The meeting started at 3:07 P.M.

Marco walked in dressed in black-and-white Converses, a pair of khakis, and a red button-up shirt with sleeves he rolled up to his elbows.

"Diaz, I presume?" James Wong, the head of the publishing branch of the company asked.

"Yes sir."

Marco was not nervous, yet not confident at the same time. He knew his book was shit, and that no one in their right mind would publish it, but he actually needed someone to publish it in order for him to make any money.

"You're younger than I presumed," Wong said, "How old are you?" He asked.

"I'm twenty-four." Marco answered.

"Well that's the youngest I've received by a longshot. _Fire!"_ He said the "fire!" part of the sentence quickly, pointing his fingers (which were shaped to look like guns) at Marco, pressing him to present his book.

"Well, the book is called _Kein Kampf,_ which means 'No Struggle.' I bet you already know what that is a spoof of." Marco started.

Wong nodded his head slowly.

"Well, it's about a time traveler named George Miller, who is a devoted Jew, who sets out to prevent the Holocaust, however, in the process, he becomes friends with Adolf Hitler."

"Well," Wong started, "how long is it?" He asked. "Three-hundred and twenty-three pages." Marco answered. "Seems a bit long for such an easy-to-grasp concept." Wong said.

"Why is it so long?" Wong added.

"I tried my best to stay historically accurate," Marco responded, "I researched quite a bit and the wrote the most detailed descriptions I possibly could." Marco said quickly.

"So what portion of the book do you have with you?" Wong asked. "The whole thing. I can give you a portion if you-" "First chapter if you will." Wong quickly interrupted.

Marco flipped to the end of the first chapter and pulled out all of the pages before it. That totaled to twenty-seven pages.

"Give me fifteen minutes." Wong said, putting on his reading glasses.

"Alrighty." Marco said.

Marco would spend the next fifteen minutes playing with his thumbs. When he wasn't doing that, he'd look up at Wong, who would take notes every thirty-to-forty-five second or so. After the fifteen minutes was up, Wong took off his reading glasses and addressed his problems.

"When we look for a book to publish," Wong started, "we want _excitement._ The last book we published, _The Lord of the Fries,_ when introduced, left us wanting more after we read the first chapter. In five years, it'll be a best-seller. Your book's concept is great," Wong continued, "but the execution leaves the book dry. I'm sorry, but we won't publish your novel."

Marco looked at his phone. 3:30 P.M. It had only been twenty-three minutes.

"Is that it?" Marco asked disappointingly.

"Yup, thanks for your time, and best of luck." Wong answered politely.

Marco got up slowly and walked to the door. "Thank you." Marco said to Wong. "You're welcome." Wong answered back.

And with that, Marco's first chance was gone and out the door.

 **Legalize the Truth**

July 18th, 2027. 8:29 A.M. Marco had reported to Jellybean Publishing. Marco had the same outfit, but with red-and-white converses to match his shirt.

Jellybean was relatively new, only being started two years before. They had only published three books in that two years, and only one had been particularly successful.

Marco walked in, and, to his surprise, at the desk was a man who looked younger than he did. Rudely, Marco got off on the wrong foot.

"How old are you?" Marco asked.

"The name is Richard Pickens," Pickens said, slightly angered by the fact he didn't ask his name first, "I'm thirty-two." He said.

"So, you must be Marco Diaz, the twenty-six year old?" He asked.

"Yes sir."

"Any experience in writing?" Pickens asked.

"No sir," Marco answered, "The closest thing to writing a book before this was a creative writing class I took as a sophomore in high school."

Pickens took note of that.

"So what its your book about?" Pickens asked.

"A guy named George Miller," he started. "He's a devout Jew who stumbles upon a time machine. He sets out to stop the Holocaust, put in the process, he accidentally becomes friends with Adolf Hitler."

This time Marco made sure to spice up the book a little, in order to make it sound less boring.

"Uh-huh. Enjoying it so far. Does it have a witty title?" He asked.

"It's called _Kein_ _Kampf_ ,-" _"_ Which means " _No Struggle"_ in German, and is a play on words of _Mein Kampf!_ Interesting..." Pickens interrupted in excitement.

"Do you have any of the book with you, and if so, how much?" Pickens asked. "The whole thing." Marco said, giving the same response he did to Wong.

"Give me the first two chapters, please." Pickens demanded politely. Marco pulled out the two, which totaled to fifty-one pages.

"Give me forty-five minutes," Pickens said, "There's McDonald's on the fifth floor. Get some food while I'm reading and be back in at least an hour." Marco got up and headed towards the door. "Got it." He said.

Marco ordered a twenty-piece Chicken McNugget Meal (no, there is no sponsorship sadly) and an iced coffee for Richard (gifts get you everywhere). After forty minutes, he finished and head back up to the top floor, where the meeting was taking place. Once he got there, he spent the remaining five minutes of the original allotted time to play and act out certain scenarios in his mind.

When he walked back in, Pickens was done and had a smile on his face. Marco did not notice this and sat down.

"Iced coffee?" Marco asked.

"Oh wow, that's the second favor you've done for me today." Pickens answered, which confused Marco.

" _Second_ favor?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah," Pickens started, "This book is amazing, and we will have it printed by next _month."_ He answered excitedly.

Marco was dumbstruck. This was a stoner idea that he expected to be shut down by all four publishers, and here he was on his second scheduled meeting, ready to get his book published.

"Diaz, I see a bright future for both of us," Pickens said, "Now let's work on a contract."

"We'll give you a guaranteed $10,000, and for every book we sell, you'll get 50% of the profit. We sell all of our books for $24.99, so let's say we sell 500 books, you get-" Pickens pulled out his calculator, "$6,247.50. Get the gist?"

Marco nodded in disbelief. He was on track to make a guaranteed $10,000 and then some.

"The contract will be ready in about a week or two. But for now, consider _Kein Kampf_ a Jellybean exclusive, and possible cornerstone." Pickens said, still in excitement.

"Y-yes sir." Marco said, still in disbelief, choking on his own spit.

"See you in a week or two, Mr. Diaz." Pickens said, ushering Marco to the door.

"Alright."

 **Legalize the Truth**

Marco spent the night on the town, with his friends.

Marco had successfully worked a marijuana-induced thought into $10,000.

Huh, what his dad said about stoners _was_ true.

And that $10,000 was all he ever expected.

 **Legalize the Truth**

 **Well, that is done and over with. Hope it's satisfactory so far.**

 **Who can tell me where the Time Skip quote comes from? You get meaningless points if you get it correct.**

 **Leave a review if you'd like to put in some input.**

 **See you next time.**


	2. Maybe

**Oh, you came back. Thank you.**

 **Today is the second chapter of "Writer's Block."**

 **Here are the two responses to my two reviews.**

 **Bossman3719: Thank you.**

 **MrWelcomeMatt: No, I haven't read (or heard) of that book. Might check it out now.**

 **Also, five favs and five follows, I like it.**

 **No one bothered to guess the time quote, so I won't bother to give the answer.**

 **Let's dive in.**

July 26th, 2026. 12:30 P.M. The setting is the top floor of Jellybean Publishing. Richard Pickens, the thirty-two year old CEO, was ready to sign Marco Diaz, a twenty-six year old "author" to a contract worth a guaranteed $10,000. All that was needed now was for the lawyers for Jellybean to arrive.

In order to avoid any ripping off, Marco hired his grandmother on his mother's side as his lawyer. She only wanted $500 and more trips to her home, and of course, Marco agreed.

Ar 12:42 P.M., the Jellybean lawyers finally arrived. They cited traffic and spouse problems as their reasons for tardiness. Pickens took no offense to it and the contract signing went underway.

"Alright," Pickens started, "we've gone over the basics of the contract. $10,000 guaranteed, half the profit of each booksold.

"However, we still have to address your additional payments. You get a check sent to you in the mail every Friday. Today-" He said, pulling out his checkbook, "you get your $10,000."

He wrote the check slowly, as he did for other authors for their first check. He enjoyed seeing them get anxious in their seats waiting on that first check. He finished thirty seconds later.

"You get this check after you've signed." Pickens said.

"The contract also goes over details about the book's publication." Pickens continued. "Publication starts tomorrow and it should be in stores on August 10th, and a week from that day, you get your first check.

"The contract is forty-eight pages. Take your time." Pickens finished.

Marco was told by his lawyer (and animated sitcoms) to read the contract in its entirety. He'll always remember that episode of South Park where Stan involuntarily became apart of Apple's human centipede.

And so Marco read for twenty minutes, and then read for an additional ten to make sure there was no fine print. Nothing. Marco then ran back through and signed where he needed to sign, and then ran back through a fourth time for his grandmother/lawyer to sign where she needed to. After that, he handed it back to Pickens and his lawyers, who then signed for themselves. After that was all said and done, Pickens handed the check to Marco.

"Congratulations. You're now a published author." Pickens said.

"Thank you." Marco responded. "You run a pretty good ship here." He complimented.

"What do you mean by that?" Pickens asked, confused, but not offended. "No fine print, no shenanigans." Marco answered.

Pickens laughed.

"You're lucky. You first went to Wong, correct?" Pickens asked Marco. "Yes sir." Marco answered quickly. "They're known for ripping people off. You're lucky for them denying you."

"What makes it different here?" Marco asked.

Pickens gave him a confused look.

 _"Kein Kampf_ will be a success, and you're gonna make alot of money fast. If you went with Wong, you'd be making seventy percent less slowly." He answered.

Marco took away two things from that: one, that Pickens said it'd be a success, which is highly illogical, and two, that he'll make alot of money and fast. All Marco needed, wanted, and expected was the $10,000. And if the book did as well as Marco thought it would, he'd probably have another $18,000. Maybe it's alot in _his_ eyes, who knows? Jellybean is only two years old.

"Well, thank you." Marco said gratefully. "No, thank _you._ You're gonna put Jellybean on the map." Pickens said, seemingly more grateful than Marco.

Marco head out the door with his grandmother.

"He's got to quit saying that." Marco thought to himself.

 **Time Skip Quote: I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it**

Marco head to the bank, where he deposited his $10,000. Then he head home a happy man.

Maybe he'd have enough money to move out of his apartment and get a house. Maybe he'd find someone to live in that house with. Start a family.

Maybe, he was wrong about this book. Maybe, it was a step in the right direction. Maybe, he was gonna turn an average life into a great life. But for now, TV Dinners and Comcast TV.

For now- _this_ was the life.

 **I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it.**

August 10th, 2026. 10:45 A.M. Marco had finished his morning class at ECU.

Today of course, was the day his books hit the shelves. He was anxious all class, just barely paying attention, barely getting his notes.

He told himself he'd get a copy immediately after class, and here he was, in his Volkswagen Beetle, driving to the nearest Barnes and Noble.

He arrived there at 10:57, and made a B-line to the "New Releases" section.

And there they were, wide in the open.

Maybe 50-100 copies (Marco was a bad on-the-spot counter) of his book. He grabbed a hardcover and got to the empty checkout line.

While at the line, Marco laughed to himself, which got the attention of the cashier.

"What's so funny?" She asked.

"Well," Marco started, "that book is mine, and I make half the profit of each book sold. So really, I'm only spending about $12.50."

The cashier checked Marco's debit card and then the book to check the names. And what do you know, they're the same.

"Hm. Cool. Never happened to me before." She said, semi-excited. "What's it about?" She asked.

"Oh. A time traveler who becomes friends with Hitler." Marco answered bluntly.

The cashier stared at him and then smiled.

"I think I might get myself a copy. Some of the strangest ideas are the best." The cashier said.

"Thank you..." Marco said, looking for a name tag, "Marsha. Means alot to me."

"No problem."

 **I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it.**

Marco head home and opened _Kein Kampf._ He then placed it on top of his bookshelf as if the book was on display.

Marco Diaz was proud of himself.

Too bad this book was going to be a flop.

 **I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it.**

August 17th, 2026. Marco Diaz had morning classes once again.

He woke up at 7:00 A.M., as he usually did. He went through his morning routine, shower, eat, brush teeth, leave at 7:30, talk to Ferguson and Alfonso for fifteen minutes, he'd go to class at 7:45, where'd he'd study until class started.

We'll cut back to the conversation between Marco, Ferguson, and Alfonso.

"And so here's this little girl, calling me gay on XBox live, she's probably no less than ten-"

"Hey guys." Marco said, interrupting Ferguson's riveting story.

"Hey Marco." The two said together.

"Why don't you continue your story?" Marco asked. "I think I lost track of where I was." Ferguson responded.

"Of course," Alfonso said, teasing Ferguson, "you have the attention span of a gold fish."

"That's an insult to the goldfish." Marco said, resulting in hefty laughter from himself and Alfonso.

"Alright, alright." Ferguson said. "By the way, Marco, how's that book going for you?" Ferguson asked.

"Oh yeah! I want to be able to use 'I'm friends with a published author' on my Tinder." Alfonso said thirstily.

"Well, I find out today. I already told you I get $10,000 guaranteed, but I didn't mention I get half profit of each book sold and I get checks based off those sales every Friday starting today." Marco answered.

"How much do you think it will be?" Ferguson said, wanting a thick wallet.

"Well, I expect ten sold copies," Marco said half-jokingly, " so..." He pulls out his calculator, "$124.95." He said, laughing.

"Well that's not bad, I still live in my mother's basement." Ferguson said, resulting in a laugh from all three of the college students.

"I'm just surprised it got this far. A single penny from this will get me excited." Alfonso said.

"Same here, buddy." Marco said.

He looked at his phone, which read 7:44 A.M.

"Sorry guys, 7:45. Gotta go. See you guys after class." Marco said.

"See ya." Ferguson and Alfonso said together.

 **I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it.**

Class came and went, and Marco head to McDonald's, which is where the three usually met after class.

The three ate and talked for two hours or so and then head to Ferguson's mom's basement to play video games. They played Call of Duty for an hour before Alfonso had to start his shift at Wal-Mart, which meant Marco had to go as well.

That made it so he arrived at home at 1:45 P.M., about an hour after mail usually arrived, which meant his check had arrived.

He opened his locker which held his mail, and to his surprise, there was only one thing there, which was his monthly addition of "Hoodies Monthly."

Marco was slightly confused, but he still needed his check.

He walked up the stairs to his apartment and then called Jellybean, where he was put on hold for fifteen minutes and then redirected to Richard Pickens.

"Hey Richard, this is Marco." Marco started.

"Oh, sorry I didn't give you my personal info, I'll give you my cell number as soon as you get up here." He said, confusing Marco.

"What do you mean, 'when I get there'?" Marco asked.

"I know why you're calling. It's about your check not being in the mail." He said, nailing the metaphorical nail on the head.

"Yeah, so why do I have to go up there, to get the check? And if so, why?" Marco asked.

"Well, we don't feel confident mailing it to you." Pickens answered.

"Why not?" Marco asked.

"Well, we owe you more than six and a half million dollars, Marco."

 **Well that totals to around 1700 words.**

 **Who can tell me where the time skip quote comes from? Who can win those meaningless points.**

 **I have nothing left to say, so I'll see you in two days for the next chapter. Buh-bye.**


	3. The Big Leagues

**Ironic that I leave, considering the story is called Writer's Block.**

 **Let's not** **waste anytime here.**

 **SolangeloUniverse: Knowing my last story was boring as hell, that is good to hear.**

 **GracieGhost: Consider this chapter made specifically for you, then.**

 **Let's do this.**

 _"Welcome to The View. I am Raven Symoné, and today, we cover a literary story unlike any other._

 _"It is often on this show that we cover books, but this one is a rarity._

 _"In the small town of Echo Creek, California, a twenty-four year old college student named Marco Diaz took a major dive into writing. After a slow start to the week, it has skyrocketed with a debut at number one on the New York Times' bestsellers list."_

Richard turned off the TV.

"Marco, your book sold five-hundred twenty-two thousand, four-hundred and eleven copies over the last week. In all we owe you six million, five-hundred twenty-seven thousand, five-hundred twenty-five dollars and forty-five cents."

Marco sat at the other side of the desk, still in disbelief. He had arrived thirty minutes after the phone call, getting a cup of coffee to wake him up a bit. Still, he was almost half-awake.

"So where did all this come from?" Marco finally managed to muster up.

"Well, as you can see by this graph," Pickens said, pointing to a line graph with some statistics on it, " we sold only around three thousand copies on the first day. Then," he said, his finger moving up nearly a foot, "We sold one-hundred-thousand copies on Saturday. This is an anomaly we can only trace to one possible factor, which is the most popular book club in Echo Creek, ran by a woman named Marsha Johnson." Richard finished.

That was the woman at the counter last Friday. Now Marco was grateful he bought his own book. He was now grateful that she was there when he bought that book. He had suddenly went from a cocky college student looking to steal money from a company to the most grateful person on Earth.

"And we really don't have much to say besides, congratulations." Pickens said, shaking Marco's hand.

"This is the start of something new, something _great._ The rise of Jellybean, the rise of Marco Diaz." Richard said. "You don't have to worry about anything anymore, your future is set."

Marco sat there, soaking it all in. After years of high school mediocrity, teasing, a broken relationship with Jackie Lynn Thomas, just being a laughingstock- it was over.

People knew the name Marco Diaz.

"Oh, and two last things," Pickens said, snapping Marco out of this thoughts, "You're gonna need these."

Pickens threw him a flip phone.

"You're gonna be contacted by a lot of people. TV producers, Hollywood producers. That will help you manage all of that. Second," Richard said, grabbing a blank check and writing the number 6,527,525.45 on a check in black ink, " _This_ is yours."

Marco looked at the check.

It was official looking.

" _Thankyouthankyouthankyouthanky-_ " Marco said, before getting interrupted by Pickens.

"No. Thank you." Richard said. "Now get out, it's time for my lunch break.

"Alright." Marco answered, leaving the building. He then sat on a bench outside of the building. Then he called his parents. His mother answered.

"H-hey, M-mom." Marco said, fighting back tears. "Get the phone on speaker and get D-dad, please." He said, fighting back even more tears.

His mother complied and now both were on speaker.

"H-have you guys b-been watching the n-news?" Marco asked.

"No sweetie, we don't have the time. Why do you ask?" Angie, Marco's mother, answered.

"G-great. Well, I decied to write a book over the s-summer, and well," Marco stopped, letting his tears of happiness flow, "I'm a New York Times best seller and I've made over six-million dollars."

The next five minutes were of celebration. Despite the fact they were miles and miles apart, they felt as if they were all there together.

 **Time Skip Quote: Now where's your fucking champion?**

The next day, Marco went to his bank, cancelled his credit card, and then put his money in his account.

Next, he drove to his parents' house to discuss his future.

Now where's your fucking champion?

"So, mom and dad." Marco said, sitting on the old couch he had know for years.

"I think I should drop out of college." Marco started. "I don't really see a point in doing it. I've made my money, and there's more to come."

"Well, I don't see why not." Rafael said, not trying to start an argument.

Angie on the other hand, disagreed.

"Marco, if you end up blowing away all your money, and you end up not being able to write a book, you don't have anything to fall on. You don't have a degree, you don't get a job, and the only credibility you have is that long ago, you wrote a successful book." She said, catching Marco's attention.

"Mom, you know how I am with money." Marco said, pleading his case. "I still live of the money I made from babysitting when I was thirteen. I can make a dollar last three to four months." He said.

"Honey, I care about you a lot. We need you to be safe." Rafael stayed quiet, knowing a happy wife is a happy life.

"Mom, I had $20,000 in my bank account. That money was ten years old. Haven't you noticed I don't have a job, and still live in my apartment? Six million will be easy to handle." Marco pleaded.

Rafael finally broke his silence.

"Angie, you've been wanting to retire. _We've_ been wanting to retire. Marco can retire at twenty-four." Rafael said.

"I was planning to give you guys at least one million dollars by the time the next check comes around." Marco added.

Angie and Rafael both had been working two jobs each. Angie was more stressed, less healthy, less attractive. Rafael had began losing more and more sleep, to the point he got none.

"Marco, are you going to fulfill that promise?" Angie asked.

"Mom, you carried me around for nine months, then put up with me for eighteen years. You guys put up with anxiety, you put up with my girl troubles, all my problems. You deserve it."

There were no more arguments for the rest of the night. Only a nice dinner.

Now where's your fucking champion?

The next day, Marco walked into the dean's office. He was understanding. Most of the time.

"Hey, Dean Skeeves?" Marco asked.

"Yes, Marco Diaz, the millionaire author. The one no one thought would succeed, the one that is now succeeding. You think you're too good for us, now you're dropping out. I knew it." Skeeves said harshly.

"Well, good luck. I'd do the same."

"Is that it?" A confused Marco asked.

"Yep. Hope you come back some day." Skeeves said.

Marco started walking out.

"One more thing, though." Skeeves said. "I know you're not that creative, Diaz. As soon as you run out of ideas, and people demand more, you'll be _rock bottom._ "

Marco gulped and then walked out. As soon as he did, his flip phone rang.

"Hey, this is Jordan Roberts, a producer for _Good Morning America,_ and we're wondering if you could come on the show this Tuesday."

Marco, without thinking, said, "Yeah, see you in two days."

He closed the phone.

Marco's gonna hit the big leagues.

 **I am on mobile, so I can't really say how many words that is.**

 **Well, my follows and favs are going up, which I like, so keep that going.**

 **Hope you have a good day, and if you're reading at night, good night.**

 **See you next time.**


	4. Half-Truism

**I was so excited to update, I spent my day writing another chapter.** **Reviews-** **Johana: The chapter they meet shall be dedicated to you, then.** **Let's get down to business.** Marco suffered social anxiety all of his life. If he got up in front of a crowd of at least two, his right leg would twitch uncontrollably and his voice would shake like an earthquake.

Now, that being a given, imagine being broadcast in front of at least one-million middle-aged moms across the United States, about to get interviewed on _Good Morning America._

He was about to shit himself.

Marco was given a free plane ticket from Echo Creek to New York, quite strange considering he was a six-million-dollar man, but he wasn't complaining.

All the way, he took tons of photos and videos, which he then uploaded to his YouTube vlogging channel, which he hoped would skyrocket in subscribers (it went from two to two hundred just the day before).

And now he was finally there on the set of _Good Morning America._ He was set to come on the show about midway through the program, which was around eight o'clock. At the moment, they were talking about the amazing comeback of an eighty-four year old Bernie Sanders, who came out of retirement to secure the Democratic Party's presidential nomination.

He was set to be interviewed by Lara Spencer and Michael Strahan, two of the hosts I just Googled.

The pressure was killing him. What would they ask? How was he going to explain that it was all just a joke? _Could_ he explain it was all just a joke?

No, he couldn't. He had to lie about it. That was for sure.

 _Fuck, this is going to be annoying._

 **Time Skip Quote: Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a gentleman.**

The interview started a 7:59.

Marco decided to wear a red button up, jeans, and his red Converses. He also wore a nice coat of sweat.

"If you have been watching our program for the last week, you would have found out about a college student named Marco Diaz, a twenty-four year old with no background in writing, who, out of the blue, wrote a book called _Kein Kampf,"_ Lara Spencer said, holding a hardback of the book, "which debuted at number one on the New York Times' bestsellers list.

"Well, for the first time, on live television, we get to speak with Mr. Diaz, who has flown from Echo Creek to be here. How are you today?" Spencer finished.

"Oh, I am uhhh, fine." Marco started, knowing all it took was one wrong step. Alternatively, it took only one good one to make this successful for the rest of the time.

"How is New York?" She added.

"Big." Marco said, getting a laugh from both of the hosts.

"I think I'll start off." Michael Strahan, the other interviewee stated. "Did you ever expect this kind of popularity?"

Marco actually knew the answer to that.

"Well, no. When I shopped it to Jellybean, I thought their past would repeat itself, it would just sell around 30,000 books. I didn't believe them when they said it would be successful, but I am sure glad I was wrong." Marco answered.

Marco had his confidence now.

One thing about his social anxiety. If he gets the ball rolling with someone, he's out of the anxiety. It's how he fell in love with Jackie. Though, he'd rather forget that.

"Another thing," Lara asked, "how did you come up with the plot for the book?"

"Well, I was hanging with my friends," he said, ready to add half-truths to the story, "and we challenged eachother to come up with funny scenarios, and mine happened to be the best. Then they told me, no, _demanded_ me to write it. That was in May, and here I am now." Marco answered.

"Why so controversial?" She asked again. "The Holocaust is one of the more touchy events in human history."

"Well, it was a contest to see who could make the craziest. Mentioning one of the worst events in recent history made it all the more crazy." Marco answered. "It also was a good selling gimmick."

"Where did you come up with the idea for George Miller?" Strahan asked.

Marco sure as hell knew that name was just Filthy Frank's real name.

"Well, my life has been filled with mistakes I would _love_ to fix," he said, thinking of high school, _Jackie Lynn Thomas,_ "and I guess he and the plot could be an allegory for how life is unpredictable, even when you try to change it to your control." He finished, knowing what he had just said was half-bullshit, half-truth.

"Here's a biggie," Spencer said, "how are you going to spend your money?" Lara asked with a smile on her face.

"Well, long ago, I would have told you I was going to Vegas." Marco said, getting another laugh out of the two. "But I think I am going to get out of my apartment, get a house, and just not make any dumb purchases." He answered.

"Yeah, being fiscally responsible is smart, ask my ex-wife." Strahan joked. "Also, how did you parents take the news? I remember signing my first NFL contract and reporting to them how much money it was worth. They were ecstatic." He asked.

"We just talked it all through." Marco answered. "I am dropping out of college, and retiring to focus on a possible writing career."

"Is there going to be a sequel?" Spencer asked.

"No. It was meant to be a standalone. Just take a look at the ending," he said, referring to how the story ended with George telling the story to his grandchildren, one of which was named Adolf, "and I have never wrote before, so writing another book is out of the question for now."

"Bit of a bummer. Quality over quantity though, right?" Strahan rhetorically asked.

"Well that is all the time we have for now." He continued. "Marco, enjoy your stay in New York."

"I'll try my best." Marco said.

 **Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a gentleman.**

The next day, he was home. His apartment. It had been around three days since he actually set foot in it.

Ironically, he was there because his computer was there, which he would use to find a new house.

 **Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a gentleman**.

He had waited a long time to finally be able to afford a real house, and now this was finally his chance to get that, and possibly beyond.

The main point of emphasis was where to live. Before, he had struggled to choose a place to live. A part of him wanted to stay in Echo Creek, and another part of him wanted to get out and explore the U.S.

And then there was the problem of what type of house to choose. Being a millionaire, he could choose anything.

This was gonna take a little bit

 **Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a gentleman.**

After three hours, he found three houses that seemed fit.

The first one was in Seattle, Washington. It was a two story house that covered around one fourth of the the block. Not too big, not too small.

The second one was in Providence, Rhode Island. It was a one story home, but it had the area of a two story home. Also, it was by the coast, an area Marco held close to his heart, considering he was from California.

Finally, there was a house, no, a mansion, in Palo Alto. Three stories, a nice basement, it was everything Marco wanted.

The first house was $149,000. The second house was around half of that. Meanwhile, the mansion was a whopping $2.5 million.

Then, he took into account all potential benefits of each house. First house, Seattle. It rained in Seattle, and he loved the rain. It made him feel poetic. Second house, Providence. The coast, a nice college basketball program. The mansion. Palo Alto. Echo Creek 3.0. Also in California. He really didn't have to move that far.

Then he put his parents into the equation.

Seattle, too far. Providence, way too far. Palo Alto was in state

He also promised them a million. Then he realised, he could use that million for something else.

When Marco was young, his parents always told him the perfect house for retirement had two floors. The first floor was a kitchen, living room, and a bathroom. The second floor was one bedroom for the parents, and another bathroom. The backyard would be semi-large with a swimming pool. Was there one in the area?

He checked. It was right across the street. $40,000. That way he could give them $40,000 in house, $960,000 in cash.

And then Marco thought of Alfonso and Ferguson, the only two people who stayed friends with him through high school.

He had almost forgot about them. He wasn't just gonna say, "fuck you, I'm rich and don't need you anymore." He was going to help them out.

The basement was big enough for two rooms. Maybe Ferguson could move from one basement to another.

And then, he factored in the other houses. Rain. Coast. Basketball.

This was really a no brainer. He had no idea why he had spent so much time on this.

He had made his decision.

 **Wow, the first chapter to cap off 2,000 words! This is going to be good.** **Expect the next chapter to be either short, or two months from now.** **If you are reading at morning, have a good day. If at night, have a good night.** **We hit two more follows. Keep it coming.** **See you next time.**


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